Take A Sad Song
by AnberlinLove
Summary: This was his New Year's celebration; apart from Sammy who wouldn't speak to him, away from Castiel who also wouldn't speak to him, and ignoring the copious amounts of calls from Bobby who he doesn't want to speak to. Dean/Cas
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. 

Goddamn summer hiatus, I just can't help myself. I have to keep writing just to keep the Dean/Cas love alive. Will be made into a full story. Nothing after Sam gets his soul has happened. 

**Take a sad song…**

Dean lay quietly in a hard motel bed. The feeling of scratchy polyester sheets making him itch in the most uncomfortable places. He could hear cheers and excited screams from outside as people celebrated the New Year. A bottle of Jack hung from his long fingers as his arm hovered over the floor. This was his New Year's celebration; apart from Sammy who wouldn't speak to him, away from Castiel who also wouldn't speak to him, and ignoring the copious amounts of calls from Bobby who he doesn't want to speak to.

After receiving his soul back, Sam was angry. He could remember everything, yet he wasn't hurt or demented in any way. He just remembered. Just as Dean did. He'd lost control on Dean, punching him as many times as he could before Castiel restrained him. That was when Dean was sure Cas was on his side until he zapped Sam to sleep and turned his angry gaze unto the older Winchester.

"_Don't expect me to praise you on this Dean," he said in a deep tone._

"_Cas, what-"_

"_Shut up. Don't expect me to thank Death, or you or whoever else was involved in this disgusting deal. You have dishonored your brother."_

Castiel had left shortly after Dean had stuttered to find a response. Bobby had simply given him an envelope of money, a bite to eat and a clap on the back. They'd decided that Sam should stay with him while Dean hit the road. He wasn't exactly sure if _they _had decided on this as much as _Bobby _had decided on this.

A flutter of wings broke through his thoughts and he let a groan rise in his throat. What did that winged bastard want now?

"Dean."

He didn't bother to reply, instead taking a deep swig of his Jack. The angel shuffled in impatience, shifting closer to the bed.

"Dean."

"I heard you the first time."

"You didn't reply."

"I didn't want to."

Castiel chuckled slightly before sitting on the bed beside him. He decided to ignore the annoyed grunt Dean gave as the bed shifted weight and instead tsk-ed the younger man's name. Annoyed even more, Dean looked over at him.

"Cas, are you here to be a pain in my ass or what?" he growled.

"Bobby asked me to check up on you," he replied softly, staring at the ceiling.

"Why?"

Castiel met his eyes, "Dean, he hasn't heard from you in over a week. He's sure you're lying in a ditch somewhere, nursing a bottle of whiskey, and crooning Metallica."

He held back a snort, "I'm assuming those are his words, not yours."

The angel ignored him, eyeing the bottle of liquor dangling from his hand, "Well, he was partially right."

"Blow me."

"I don't even know what that means."

He opened his mouth for a moment before thinking better of it and closed it again. Castiel shrugged and took the bottle of liquor from his charge, setting it on the floor beside his feet. Dean grunted in protest but Cas held up a hand to silence him.

"You smell like a beggar," he stated, reaching to untie Dean's shoes.

"Cas."

"You need to bathe, lay off the alcohol and get some rest," he continued, "I'll be here when you're done."

"Cas-" he started again, clearly belligerent in his drunken state.

He was fixed with an icy blue stare, "Dean."

And there was the end of that argument.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Please enjoy, I hope this temporarily calms your insanity during hellatus. Much love._**

Chapter 2: Number One Stressful Occupation

Castiel lingered on Dean's bed as he heard the shower begin to run. His ears perked for sounds of Dean slipping and breaking his neck, because really, the man was the drunkest he'd ever seen him. And him being Dean Winchester, that's saying a lot. The past week had been hell for all parties. Sam had confided in him in the way Dean had when he first got back from hell. In a way, it made him feel like he was cheating Dean but… he did raise Sam, even if he didn't want to admit it. It was his obligation to counsel him as needed.

Bobby had felt bad about kicking Dean out so soon, swearing he was just trying to avoid animosity. He didn't want any 'shit in my house being broken'. Castiel didn't understand because well…everything looked broken in Bobby's house. But he had been so angry at Dean for not listening. Dean should have known how rough it would have been for Sam to have all those memories, the nightmares. When Cas had touched it, it was an ugly, writhing mass of black energy. Nothing like the goodness Sam Winchester once carried. Even with demon blood in his veins, his intentions were pure, his soul was redeemable but now, after what he endured…what he did in hell… Even the angel who fixed Dean Winchester could never fix that.

He looked towards the door as Dean stepped out of the shower, hearing the pitter patter of his wet feet on the tile floor. If he strained, he could swear he heard sobs. But he didn't, because when Dean cries, it's a private moment. You don't listen when a soldier cries. They've given up so much, their minds and bodies and family, they need to have one thing for themselves.

The door opened ten minutes later, a slightly dry Dean stepping out and padding to his duffel bag to replace the towel he was wearing with something much more decent. Castiel looked the other way, picking up the bottle of whiskey he had previously deposited on the floor and smelling the rim slightly before taking a sip. It tasted of Dean and bitter alcohol. He liked it.

"You can drink but I can't?" came Dean's hoarse voice, whether from lack of use or crying.

"I have a higher tolerance and don't turn into a bum humming 'Enter Sandman'."

"No, you just turn manic depressive," he bit back, pulling a light gray shirt over his head before grabbing the bottle back from the angel, "Now what the hell do you want?"

Castiel gazed up at the ceiling, the look of annoyance well associated with Dean gracing his face. Dean gave a small chuckle inwardly at having achieved it. He plopped into the chair beside the bed, reclining and bringing the bottle to his lips.

"I told you, I'm here to check on you," he said patiently, fighting the urge to just knock him out seeing as the man hadn't slept in days.

"Like you haven't already."

"What do you mean?" Cas feigned innocence, truly believing he did it well.

Dean scoffed, tipping the bottle back further until burning liquid poured down his throat. He refused to warrant that question with an answer, knowing full well that Cas knew how Dean sensed him. It was something that their 'profound bond' included. Like a gift with purchase you damn well wish you could return. Because feeling angel eyes on you just makes it impossible for you to jack off to pass the time that you should be sleeping. Which was probably said angel's goal since apparently Dean wasn't allowed any pleasures seeing as when he looked down, his previously half full bottle was now empty.

"Oh come on dude!" he groaned tossing the bottle onto the floor.

Cas gave him a smug look before standing, "I'll go check in with Bobby, I'll be back soon."

"Uh, don't come back unless you have more whiskey," with that the angel disappeared, "And a cheeseburger! Dick!"

o.o

Bobby was at his desk, looking over an ancient Macedonian text he'd recently acquired as Castiel appeared before him. The worry for Dean rushed back into the pit of his stomach at Cas' somber expression. He closed the book and gestured to the seat in front of the desk. In the past week, Cas had become a regular at the Singer household, spending a lot of time in this very room, reading books and talking with Bobby. The older man actually had begun to like him.

"Is he okay?" he asked worriedly, leaning on the table between them, "I mean in the Winchester form of the word."

"I fear for his liver," Cas said sarcastically, relieving Bobby just a bit, "Other than that, standard Winchester self-loathing. Nothing that can't be fixed. And Sam?"

"Hasn't come out of his room today," Bobby sighed as he leaned back, opening his book again, "Maybe you can break him out."

Cas tilted his head back in exasperation, a trait he'd learned from his favorite Winchester, "He's worse than Dean."

"I can believe it, he's more like his Daddy."

"I wish I could have met the man. The equal parts of ass and hero that I hear of him are intriguing."

Bobby chuckled, turning the lamp on his desk a little brighter, "You would have liked him."

"I'm finding it hard to get through to Sam," he sighed, leaning forward this time, leaning his arms on his knees, "When it seems like we get close, the next day he's right back where we started."

"That's Sam for ya," he drank long from his beer, "But he's a sweet kid underneath all that brood."

"If Dean's memories are anything to go by, then I know he is."

Bobby looked up at him questioningly, "Dean's memories?"

"Having raised Dean from the pit, I pieced him back together. Cells, tissue, organs, muscles. Being that knee deep in someone's body, you get their cell memory, muscle memory. It was like watching a movie of his life as I mended him," he paused as if in remembrance, "It was a nice distraction from the fires of hell singeing my wings and grace."

There was a brief silence as man and angel looked at opposite spots in the room.

"Never tell Dean that."

"Not planning on it."

o.o

Sam peeked his head out of his room as he heard chatting from downstairs. He could distinctly make out Cas' low almost growl and smiled to himself. To be honest, without Cas' calming grace around for the last day, he was getting antsy. He heard a flap of wings and turned to see Cas standing by his desk. The angel offered him a small smile, taking a seat.

"Hello Sam."

"Cas," he breathed in relief, his eyes were rimmed in red. Bruises seemed to burrow into the space beneath his eyes.

"Have you eaten today?" he tilted his head forward in an accusing manner.

"Oh come on Cas, I'm not a kid," Sam pretended to be offended and sat across from him, bringing his hands onto the table to clasp them.

Castiel chuckled and disappeared for a moment. Sam looked around warily only for Cas to reappear along with a steaming bowl of soup that was placed in front of the Winchester. He peered in the bowl to discover that it was younger Dean's attempt at their mother's tomato rice soup. It was his favorite meal when he was feeling under the weather although Dean claimed that it was nothing compared to Mom's. He gave Castiel a grateful look before picking up the spoon by the bowl and digging in, mindful of the temperature.

"I have to make sure you're healthy when Dean comes back," Cas breathed, "Or I'm sure he'll find a way to hurt me."

Sam laughed softly, "How is he anyway?"

"Drunk."

"Ah, the usual then."

Cas nodded and leaned forward, staring long and hard at Sam. He felt him out, bathed in the pain and despair in the boy. The regret at attacking Dean was the strongest. He missed his brother, Cas could see that. If only he could get Dean to realize that too. But he knew that he wouldn't believe him.

"Did you have a nightmare last night?" he asked softly, as to not disturb Sam's reveling in the soup he hadn't had in years.

He looked up, shaking his head before bringing another spoonful to his lips. In his mind, Cas only saw truth. Silently, he thanked God that his grace reached as far as it did to beat off any potential nightmares the Winchester might have had. A small smile graced his lips at the calm that was slowly coming over Sam, filled with the rich soup. Bit by bit, the despair seemed to fade into nostalgia.

Taking a peek, he could see a teenage Dean at a small range stove. He was stirring a pot slowly, eyes locked on the sick Sam on the bed close by watching cartoons. There was a quiet bubbling sound as the soup came to a boil, the aroma of homemade soup filling the small motel room.

He backed out, standing up and placing a soft hand on Sam's shoulder, "I should get back to him."

Sam looked almost sad, his bowl nearly empty and newly acquired angel returning to his brother. Cas sensed this, bringing his finger to the bowl to refill it. He gave the Winchester a reassuring smile.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning Sam, I promise," he let his hand slide off, "I have to feed your brother now."

An earnest look overcame the young man's face, "Cheeseburger, El Sol beer. Extra onions and pickles for the burger. Fries, apple pie. Don't forget the pie."

Castiel couldn't bring himself to tell Sam that he already knew all of this for years now.

"How could I forget the pie?"

o.o

Dean laid in his bed, flipping through the channels on the busted TV in front of him. It'd been a good few hours since Castiel had left, leaving him impatient. And really hungry. And he wanted whiskey.

Fuck this. He was going out.

He stood and pulled on a pair of jeans, reaching for his wallet before throwing on his leather jacket. Checking his hotness level in the mirror before reaching the door, he decided he should pick up a chick tonight. Just to really gross Cas out when he finally got here with a late cheeseburger.

Dick.

"Gonna get some food. Drink my weight. Get some ass," he scoffed, grabbing his keys, "No junkless, winged Heaven bitch is gonna stop me."

As he opened the door, eyes on the floor, the first thing he saw was pristine black oxfords. His eyes traveled up over dress pants, the beginnings of a trench coat until they landed on crystal blue eyes. He couldn't help the 'kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar' expression that crept onto his face.

"Cas."

"One 'junkless, winged Heaven bitch' at your service," he gave him the snarky eyes before producing a bag smelling heavily like grease.

* * *

><p><strong><em>;) Please review. If you have anything you want to see in this fic, let me know via PM or review. Feedback is beautiful. So are you.<em>**


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